My Pride and Joy is 25 today

It is hard to believe that the big-eyed little guy I met 14 years ago last month is 25 years old today.
As anyone who's ever lurked here knows, Little Bro Dan is my pride and joy.
While I wouldn't change a single thing or take back a single second of being Big Brother to my Dano, I would be lying if I said I don't miss the little guy who moondanced around the Mini-Putt doing his Robin Leach imitation ("Champagne wishes and caviar dreams...") that Wednesday night in July, 1993; the same little guy who would snuggle up next to me on the couch at the cottage while I was doing a crossword and try to help, or commandeer the puzzle ("What's a domestic feline pet, three letters, first two are C and A?"); or, while driving in the car one day, asked what would happen when he turned 16 and the Big Brother match officially ended ("It's just a number. You're not getting rid of me that easily," I replied. "Good," he said with obvious relief, "I was hoping you'd say something goofy like that.").
I could go on and on, and often do without much prompting.
The bottom line is that being a Big Brother is the most rewarding thing I've ever done. I am so proud of the young man Dano has become. To say I'm thankful that he is an integral part of my life would be a total understatement.
Happy Birthday, Buddy. Your Big Brother loves and cherishes you.

Where were you?

Thirty years ago tomorrow: August 16, 1977. The death of Elvis Presley (if you truly believe that he's dead). He would be 72 if he was still alive.
It was my Dad's 46th birthday, and I was just a couple weeks from leaving home to start university, at what was then Ryerson Polytechnical Institute. After birthday cake for dessert, I borrowed my Dad's car to get together with my buddies for one of the last times before we dispersed to various colleges and universities. I had just pulled out of the driveway when I heard on the radio that the King had died. A couple of weeks later, on Labour Day weekend, the radio waves were full of Elvis tributes and music.

Your turn. Where were you when you heard?

This is for you, Ma:

Just 'cuz.
I took this photo beside my Dad's driveway, right next to the neighbour's house. Do I like my new camera? Well, yeah!

It's been kind of quiet in our little Blog family lately, hasn't it? What with vacations, etc., I guess people other than me are spending less time online. But I kinda miss 'em. Come back: all is forgiven.

Have a great day.

The McIntyre Kids

Left to right are me, my sister Dale and brother Danny. He's a year and a half older than I am, she's three and a half younger.

Danny and his wife, Candy, spent the weekend in Ottawa, staying at my new deluxe pad. They left early this morning, and informed me last night that next time they come to town, they will also stay at my deluxe new pad.

We are close, but not in-your-face close. We do spend time together whenever possible, but living eight hours apart doesn't make it possible too often. Regardless, if we ever need each other, we know we're no farther than a phone call or MSN message away. And of course, although I usually have supper at Dale's house every Sunday, it's rare that the three of us are in the same place at the same time. So we had a nice weekend: pizza at my place Saturday night, supper at Dale's last night. While I was at work during both those days, Danny and Candy did stuff with their son, Scott -- who also lives in Ottawa and joined us for pizza and Sunday supper -- and with Dale and her husband, Den.

I love this picture of us, taken last night at Dale's. We took a similar one two years ago at Danny's house. I showed it to people at work, and said it was me with my parents. One co-worker commented on how young my mom looked! Dale got even: she showed it to people where she works, and told them it was her two dads! Yes, we are a bunch of jokers, and have a lot of laughs when we are together.

So here's to siblings, and the connections unique to them. To people who don't communicate with their sibs (such as most of my stepmother's five kids), I say that life is too short for that crap. Swallow your pride, and pick up the phone, before it's too late.

Merv Griffin goes to the big bonus round in the sky

From the news wire, just minutes ago:

A spokesman for Merv Griffin says the entertainer turned businessman has died.
Griffin created the game shows "Jeopardy" and "Wheel of Fortune" and parlayed them into a multi-million-dollar entertainment empire.
A statement from Griffin's family says he died of prostate cancer.
He was 82.

Put the clicker down and follow the light, Merv. Final Jeopardy is over.

I just met Maria, Hubby and Soccer Player Son

...and damn! I don't have my camera with me.

They just stopped in, en route to son's soccer game in Hull. Nice people. I enjoyed our all too brief visit. I hope you do drop in again when you come back for more soccer in a couple weeks, folks.

Small world, eh?

How I'm feeling today:

...and how are you?

Actually, this was a lame attempt to show off the loon photo I shot at the cottage with my new camera.

But seriously, how are you?

Dogs is GROSS!

Zoey just PUKED -- and she and Jack ATE IT before I could clean it up! I think it's because she just polished off a full bowl of dog food, and then tried to chase it with a kleenex or teddy bear stuffing (although I can't find a mortally wounded toutou anywhere) or maybe, um, a feminine hygiene napkin. After all, there are normally three female humans living in this house, aged 17-45.

Don't get me wrong, I love these pooches, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit to being happy that Sister and Bro-in-law are coming home today. There have been a few other "accidents" during my ten-hour absences for work purposes: a few little turds and a puddle, all of which have to be products of Jack. They were too little to be Zoey's and Jack IS only a pup, not quite six months old. Plus, I look forward to sleeping past 7am tomorrow by two or three hours.

I would still like a dog of my own, and will have one someday. I met a co-worker's three-year-old cocker spaniel yesterday. He's pretty affectionate and laidback, and I offered to dogsit him at my place, if his human ever goes away for a weekend or whatever. Annette and Oliver (human and canine, respectively) live alone in an apartment, so he has pretty good bladder and colon control, and is accustomed to spending stretches of time alone in said apartment, so shouldn't be any problem chez moi. The thing with Zoey and Jack is that with four humans on different schedules, they're rarely alone for any more than a few hours at a time.

Well, seeing as I've been up for two hours already, I might as well get on with my day.

Hello, fellow holiday suckers -- I mean, WORKERS

Grrrrrrrrrrr.... who else is working today? Is it a holiday in Quebec?

Bad enough I have to work, but the mutts I'm babysitting had me up before seven o'clock. Their only saving grace is that they're damned cute. I've tried to keep them awake in the evening, hoping they sleep later in the morning, but then I start to fall asleep, and pack it in at around 10:00.

Well, off to shower, etc., then to work.

My Maggie Muffin

This is my youngest dogniece, Maggie. Her humans are Little Bro Dan and Christine The Pretty One.
Maggie now loves her Uncle Bob. When she visited my place in May, she was only interested in me if I was feeding her pieces of cookie or pretzel, but now that she knows me, she loves me. She's a riot to play with, and always has an ample supply of big kisses for Uncle Bob.
Maggie is mostly Yorkie, with a dash of one or two other small breeds. She's trained to do her bidnid on a pee pad, and is "transitioning" (Dan's word) to using the great outdoors as her bathroom.
I also visited a couple other very affectionate pooches while I was on vacation. Kia is a two-year-old black Lab who is very affectionate, but doesn't realize that her claws and her strong legs can hurt humans. Chelsea is a cocker spaniel who thinks she's a Princess, and is happiest when someone (i.e. Me) is scratching her belly.
Then there are my brother and sister-in-law's retards -- er, shih tzus. Shiloh is a crabby, arthritic, epilpetic 13-year-old with a funny eye and six toes on one foot. Then there's his 11-year-old daughter/sister Emily (yeah, they're canine trailer trash) and the latest addition, Gucci, who joined the family via the fosterdog route last fall. His name comes from the fact that he loves to drape himself over someone's arm like an expensive Italian purse. His favourite activity is having a stare-down with Fetch the Chipmunk.
My favourite northern dog is, however, Maggie Muffin. Tomorrow, I move in with my favourite Ottawa pooches, Zoey and Jack, to doggysit for five days.
Now I know why they're called the dog days of summer!

Back from The Land of Awesome Sunsets

Hello, Possums! Miss me?
That piece of beauty at the top of this post is a close-up of the honest-to-goodness sun, just as it was setting one night last week over a small lake we simply call Highway Beach, alongside Highway 11 (the Trans-Canada Highway), 40 km south of Cochrane, Ontario. I took the pic with -- get ready for it -- my brand new DIGITAL CAMERA! Yeah, Milky, I got the S3 as you recommended. More on that some other time.

Ma, t and others in Shaniaville: Sorry I didn't get to see you while I was up there. The time absolutely flew! I did spend a good amount of time with Dad and StepMama, and with Little Bro Dan. In fact, here's a pic that my dad took, with my old camera:

Doesn't my favourite Paramedic look great in uniform? Pardon my semi-gush, but I'm constantly amazed at what a great young man he is.

Awright, move along, nothing else to see here. I'll pollute the dubya-dubya-dubya in the days to come with more crapola and photos. In the meantime: DREW CAREY??? WTF? Are they gonna change the name of the show to "What Price Is It Anyway?"?

Where I'll be

For the next couple weeks, about you'll find on this blog is this:


I'm not really going fishing, it's just not something I do, but you get the picture.

I intend to spend most of my time at the cottage, regardless of the weather. My dad tells me, however, that the forecast is for hotter, dryer weather. I would never place a bet on a weather forecast, but that is a hopeful sign.

And on evenings when the sky is clear enough, I'll see something like this:


...or this:


Believe it or not, those are two different sunsets at the same place. I call the sunset the fingerprint on the end of the day, because as breathtakingly beautiful as it can be, no two are exactly the same. If luck is with me, I'll also get to see the Northern Lights. There's nothing like standing on the dock, watching the colourful whips dancing across the sky, crackling, to make you realize that in the whole scheme of things, you're extremely small and insignificant. It's such a relaxing, peaceful feeling.

So keep the place warm for me. I'll catch up with everyone next month. Once my shift at work is finished tomorrow at about 6:30pm, I'll be on vacation, heading north on Monday, back to Ottawa on the 31st, and back to work August 1st.

My latest project

I have a desk that my parents bought me when I lived in North Bay in 1986. They got it, unfinished, at Consumers Distributing (Remember that place? I wish it had worked without the constant "Sorry, it's out of stock. Can you pick another item?" and was still around).

Anyway, I finally got around to finishing it, 21 years after the fact. Here's what it looked like:


And here's what it looks like after four coats of all-in-one stain and varnish, followed by a final coat of clear varathane:


...and where I'll keep it in my apartment, until I think of somewhere else that it might work:


Not bad, eh? Is there any end to my talents? My Grade 9 woodworking teacher, Mr. Romaniuk, would probably give me a C for it, because there are a few spots where the stuff ran a bit. But we didn't get to finish our coffee tables or salad bowls, because he was also a phys. ed. teacher and was away so often, coaching this team or that team. We were his only woodworking class. But I digress.

My next project will be the annual interior cleaning of my car. Yeah, I know, it sounds gross, but I live in an apartment, and it ain't easy to clean it. So every summer, I put one afternoon at the cottage aside to scrub that baby clean. Other than dust and the occasional spill of coffee from the cupholder, it doesn't get that grossly dirty. For one thing, I don't smoke...

What're you reading?

Six more sleeps until this cat starts his summer vacation, and there's a spot waiting for me on the deck at the cottage, to catch up on some reading. Any suggestions? I generally like mysteries, Stephen King and some celebrity biographies.

Right now, I'm reading The Black Ice, a cop novel by Michael Connelly, who was recommended to me by a co-worker last year. His stuff is reminiscent of John Grisham's. I think I've read everything Grisham has written.

I already have two books lined up: Stephen King's latest, called Lisey's Story; and the Hemingway classic, The Sun Also Rises. If I don't finish whatever reading material I bring with me, that's okay. I do most of my non-vacation reading on the bus back and forth to work.

So fire away with any suggestions.

My James Taylor concert story

On Ma Horton's blog today (macoffeeshoppe.blogspot.com), I mentioned how I wish I could sing just well enough to be a back-up singer for someone like Garth and Tricia or James Taylor.

That reminded me of the James Taylor concert I went to.

The year: 1996. The place: the Ottawa Civic Centre. I was still living in Timmins, and Little Bro Dan and I had come to Ottawa for our annual visit with my sister, brother-in-law and their kids. Dano was 13 and had never been to a concert (Hey! He grew up in Timmins, okay?), so we got tickets to James Taylor for him, my sister and me.

We were just nicely in our seats. The concert hadn't started yet. Three hefty women came along, looking for their seats in the row in front of us. When they realized they should be in our row, one stepped over the back of the seats, but the other two were wearing tight denim skirts, so they walked around. Dan was sitting next to the aisle, so we stood up to let the women in. One of them stopped in front of Dano, just long enough to shake her boobs in his face. Dano turns to me with eyes as big as frisbees, and exclaims "I LIKE concerts!"

Help! I need my support group... and a kick in the ass

I was doing so well on the diet and exercise regimen, but have fallen out of it the past couple months. My diabetes is under control, but I think I've probably put back on most of the weight I lost. I've only been to the gym a couple times since I moved to the new place, and find it so easy to decide not to go.

I know that if I get back into the routine of at least two or three times a week, I'll get back on track. I want to do that between now and when my holidays start on the 16th, so that I'll miss it while I'm lazing around the cottage, etc.

So please, kick away.

"Money makes the world go 'round..."

Crap! Now that stupid song from "Cabaret" is going through my hollow head. Up near my list of the crappiest movies of all time. Don't get me started.

Anyhoo, today I was out shopping and stopped at Canadian Tire to get a new electric kettle. I boiled the old one dry last night. I've done that before. I've also turned a stove element on under a couple of them. My aunt, who lives in Florida, says you can't buy electric kettles in the States. So when she needs a new one, someone in Canada has to send one to her.

Anyway, I had $4.35 of Canadian Tire money in my glove compartment, which covered the tax and then some. And this is what I really like about Canadian Tire money: even when you use it to help pay for whatever you're buying, you get some back! Today, it was 20 cents.

Canadian Tire money is another advantage to living in Canada, and not the Excited States. Also ketchup chips and dill pickle chips. My niece is working as a camp nurse at a camp in Michigan for the summer, and her supervising nurse, who is American, loves ketchup chips, so my sister's sending her some.

I know that Shania Twain says ketchup chips are a treat she enjoys when she's in Canada. There's also a chocolate bar that she can't get anywhere else. Crunchie, maybe? Whoever's better at Shania trivia than I am can confirm that.

One more money thing: Also while I was out, I brought all my accumlated change (pennies, mostly, but dimes and nickels, too) to the Coinstar machine at Loblaws. I got $13.63 back, even after the service charge of 9.8 cents per dollar. The machine spits out anything that's not American, Canadian or a real coin. I had a parking token mixed in with the chicken feed, not sure where I got it. Maybe it was in some change sometime and a cashier mistook it for a penny or dime. The machine also wouldn't accept one lonely 2004 Canadian penny. I put it through four or five times, and it kept getting spit out. WTF?

Coinstar sures beat the crap out of counting and rolling.

Doh! I mean Doe... a Deer... a female Deer!

I knew that my new place, situated where it is, would give me an opportunity to spot some wildlife. I've already seen a lot of birds, most notably a red-winged blackbird. Even if I didn't see the birds, they leave proof of their presence all over my car.
I just happened to look out the window at about four o'clock this afternoon, and there was this beauty:

My neighbour had told me about spotting her in the early morning, but at 4pm? When I went out onto the balcony to take a few photos, he was also on his balcony watching her. He figures she probably came across the highway (actually, the Blackburn Bypass) at night some time, and is now spooked by it during the day. Of course, we joked about putting her on the barbecue. I have eaten barbecued venison. It's delicious.
Anyway, it's times like these that I wish I had a better camera, with a longer lens. I'll have to invest in one before my trip to Dubai in December.

Happy Canada Day/Bonne Fête du Canada

I took this photo about three years ago at the family cottage. We proudly fly the flag all summer. This year for Canada Day, I'm even flying a flag from the back window of my car. I bought it yesterday at WalMart, which, of course, is an American company. The flag was made in Taiwan, but it's still MY flag, and I am proud to be a native citizen of the best country in the entire world.

Have a good, safe Canada Day weekend.

Reconnections

In the spirit of what's developed in our little blog group into recounting chance meetings and reconnecting with friends, let's relate more of those stories. Me first.
Rick and I were roommates in our first year at college: me in radio broadcasting, him in aircraft maintenance. We initially lived in different apartments in the same building. He wasn't getting along with his only roommate, and one of my two roommates -- an immature, dope-smoking idiot -- got along better with Rick's roommate, so they traded places.
Rick was a great roommate. He got along famously with Kevin, my other roommate and me. Shortly after Christmas, we moved a classmate of mine in with us. Rob had been rooming at a guy's house, but was getting worried for his own safety. His landlord had a stormy relationship with his girlfriend, and one night, it degenerated into knife-throwing. Rob moved in with us the next night.
At the end of the school year, Kevin was finished his course and left, so another classmate of mine, Glen, moved in with us. Rick brought his pal Jeff into our little group. Jeff was a year behind us in college, and needed a place to live. So there we were, five guys in a two-bedroom apartment. It didn't leave a lot of room for modesty, when all five of us had 8:30 a.m. classes. The shower went on at about 7:00 and ran for the next half hour or so. As one guy finished, another would step in.
One of Rick's classmates needed a roommate, and although our arrangement was going well, Rick knew that him leaving wouldn't be too much of a financial burden on the rest of us, so in October, he left, but we remained close friends.
I was 25 when I started college, so I was six or seven years older than my classmates and roommates. I did most of the cooking. On Mother's Day of first year, after we had all gone home for the summer, Rick called from Ottawa to wish me a happy Mother's Day. "Thanks, I think," I replied. "No, no, Bob," he quickly interjected, "I mean it. You take such good care of me and make such good meals, it was like having a second Mom."
Anyway, after college, we went our separate ways, and lost touch. About 18 years later when I was living in Ajax, I was idly Googling random words one day, just to see where the Internet would take me.
Somehow, I ended up on the website of a men's recreational hockey team in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, of all places. I noticed Rick's name on the roster. It also listed his age, which I figured was accurate. So I emailed the webmaster and said someone by that same name was a college roommate, I'd love to reconnect with him, and would he please pass along my email address, in case it was the same Rick. Sure enough, the next day, I got an email from Rick.
We have stayed in touch via email since then. Two summers ago, Rick introduced me to his wife and their young son here in Ottawa, and I hope to see them again this summer. Rick is an airline pilot in Dubai, and he and Heather want me to visit them there for a week or so. We are planning for that to happen this coming December.
When I met Heather, she said that Rick often talks about what a good cook I am, and that he has been trying to duplicate my spaghetti sauce, which is just ground beef, onions, green peppers, mushrooms, a can of Bravo sauce, and a can of tomato soup.
Anyway, the Internet has made this world even smaller. Because of that, I have reconnected with a good friend who lives half a world away.

Okay. That's my reconnection story. Who's next?

Soul2Soul Concert Review

Okay, my cyberpeeps. I'm just back from Scotiabank Place, and the Tim McGraw and Faith Hill Soul2Soul Tour concert.

I'm not much of a reviewer, but I can tell you that it was a fantastic show. Including opening act Lori McKenna, it was more than three hours of wall-to-wall music.

I actually went mostly to see Faith Hill, and while she did a great job in her solo set, I must admit to liking Tim McGraw's solo set better. And when they sing together, pow-er-full, babies.

One disappointment: Tim didn't sing the two sings I was really hoping for: "Red Ragtop" and "Tiny Dancer".

Catty comments: Faith was having a bad hair night. Static electricity gave her the frizzies, and when the big screens showed an overhead shot, it was evident that she needs her roots touched up. Plus, when she came back onstage to do an encore with Tim, her hair had a big couette on the left side. Sorry, I don't know the English term for it. I've always only known a stray chunk of hair that sticks out by the French term, and think it's spelled couette (pronounced kwett).

Cutest moment of the night: When one of their daughters (I'm thinking the oldest of the three, Gracie) came on stage to help her daddy finish the song that I think is called Angel's Wings.

I give it four Barbecue Stained T-Shirts out of a possible five.

Bob's Fantasies #1: Faith is staying with me at my place tonight.
Bob's Fantasies #2: I am so glad they didn't call me out of the crowd to sing with them. I just haven't practiced enough lately, so my performance would have been adequate at best.

In memory of my buddy

Twenty-six years ago today, I lost one of the six best friends I've ever had. Greg was killed in a car accident between Timmins and Iroquois Falls. I'll spare you the gruesome details, other to say it was a Friday night, he had been in Timmins and was coming back to Iroquois Falls to catch last round with the rest of us.

Greg was 22 at the time. He would have turned 23 in September. He died the day before Terry Fox did, and if you look at the photo, you'll see the physical similarities. In fact, a friend I have made in the last couple of years saw this pic of Greg on the bookcase in my dining room and thought it was Terry Fox. Terry was also our age.

It's hard to believe today that Greg has been dead longer than he was alive, but it also reminds me that his favourite song was Trooper's "We're Here For a Good Time (Not A Long Time)".

He and I and the other five guys made up what our parents called The Dead End Gang when we were teenagers. The seven of us were almost inseparable. The surviving six haven't all been together in the same place in almost 20 years. We don't do the greatest job of staying in touch either, but we know -- and have talked about this often -- that whenever you need one of the other guys, he's only a phone call or email away. We have supported each other through weddings, relationship break-ups, and the loss of parents.

The Gang formed -- actually just kind of happened -- when we were all about 14 or 15. We did a lot of partying and growing up together. When we were all 16 and 17 (six of us were born in 1958, and the pup of the Gang -- Karl -- in '59) we supported Bill through the death of his dad. We also ran the family business -- the local movie theatre -- for about a month, until Bill's mom decided whether she wanted to continue to run it alone. That was a lot of responsibility for a group of teenagers, but also a great learning and bonding experience.

Greg was the Romeo of the Gang. He loved the ladies, and they fell for his charms. He was also the biggest joker, but when you needed a pick-me-up or a backhanded kick in the butt to get over whatever teen angst you were going through, you could count on Greg.

There are four or five days at the end of June, 1981, that I remember, but through a fog of shock and grief. I was a pallbearer for my buddy. He, Bill and I had coached the local Juvenile hockey team with Greg's dad, and every one of the boys from that team were at the funeral, acting as an honour guard. For that, I am proud of them to this day.

In my column that week at the newspaper where I worked at the time, I wrote that friends might die, but good friendship never does. Looking back 26 years, I can confirm that. I think of Greg and the rest of The Dead End Gang every day, and am thankful that fate made us friends.

I have visited Greg's grave at least once every year, and will continue to. Of course now, I also have my Mom's grave to visit in the same cemetery.

Here's to you, Greg. You packed a lot of living into 22 years. I only wish it could have been for a lot more years.

And to The Dead End Gang: As we've gotten older, some of the macho barrier that prevented us from verbalizing how much we mean to each other has gone away, and it's easier when we meet, to express that. As fate brought us together more than 30 years ago, may it bring the six of us together soon for a time of fun and reminiscing. I just know it will feel like it had only been a few days since we last did.

This is almost like holidays!

It's now almost 1:30 a.m. I have been finished work after a seven-day stint for almost two hours now. I don't work again until Saturday and Sunday, after which I have another three days off! Woo-hoo!

Tomorrow (Wed.) I'm going to the Faith Hill/Tim McGraw concert at Scotiabank Place. I read that they put on a three-hour show in Toronto on Monday night.

I've also decided that I'm going to start to play tourist in my own city. After living here for more than two years, there is really very little I have seen, or attractions, etc. that haven't seen in several years, when I really was a visitor. I'm going to check out the museums and galleries, act like a tourist in the ByWard Market instead of someone who works in a building there, and just experience this fabulous city. I might start later this week with a tour of the Diefenbunker. A guy I work with is also off this week, and wants me to go with him.

I already love Ottawa, and hope not to leave here until I retire in 15 1/2 years. Now, I intend to reiterate that love by really getting to know this city.

Crap, I feel old today...

It's not because I'm heading into day 6 of 7 in a row at work. The upside of that is that I'm off Wednesday, Thursday and Friday; work Saturday and Sunday (albeit 14 hours on Sunday) and then have two more days off.

No, what has me feeling old today is my stupid memory for numbers and dates, and the realization that I graduated from Grade 13, THIRTY YEARS AGO TODAY! Oy, my aching bones.

I wasn't even at the graduation ceremony. The head of the guidance department talked my mom into going to accept an award that I won. You see, I was in Calgary, captaining my school's Reach for the Top team in the national championships. We lost the final game to a school from Winnipeg by 25 points -- but that's a story for another day.

Oh well, I'd better stop getting depressed about these milestones. Still to come in the next seven months or so: Little Bro Dan's 25th birthday in August, and my 50th in February.

Anyone else feeling particularly old today?

How I know Lynn Johnston

When I was in college in North Bay in 1984, we learned that Lynn Johnston, the cartoonist from For Better of For Worse, had recently moved to nearby Corbeil (pronounced kor-BEEL in those parts). Someone in my class knew exactly where, so I was dispatched with a TV crew to go to her house and try to get an interview.

We drove up to her house, and I got out of the van and knocked on her door. Sure enough, Lynn answered. I told her who I was and what I wanted. She commented that it was the first contact from local media in the six months or so that she had lived there. When she asked me when I wanted to do the interview, I commented that it wouldn't be fair to ask her to do it right away, but could we set a date. Lynn looked out the door at the college van with the crew in it and said "You have all the equipment in there, don't you?" I said yes, and she said "Oh, what the hell -- come on in."

We did an interview at her drawing board that lasted, if memory serves, about an hour. I still have the audio tape of it, in a box somewhere. She is the nicest, most down to earth person. There is absolutely nothing pretentious about her. She also gave us a tour of her very homey house, on the shore of Trout Lake. She showed us tapes of K-Mart commercials that were about to air, and mentioned that a TV series was in the works. She, her husband and kids had auditioned to be the voices of the Pattersons. The kids got the gig, but the producers didn't think Lynn and Rod were believable enough to be Ellie and John Patterson, the characters modelled after themselves.

I met her on a couple of other occasions, when I was working in radio in North Bay. I recall one time doing a live interview with her on our FM station's noon-hour talk show, that I just happened to be filling in as its host.

Fast forward about 15 years. December, 1999, I was in Sudbury to co-host a Christmas telethon that aired on TV right across Northeastern Ontario. The hotel where I stayed is attached to a shopping mall. On the Friday night, I took a stroll through the mall, and noticed that Lynn would be autographing her latest book -- "The Lives Behind The Lines..." the next morning at the Coles store. So I lined up that morning.

When it was my turn, I mentioned to Lynn that she might not remember me, but I had interviewed her when I was in college, the first interview she had done since moving to Corbeil. "I remember you," she said. "You came right up to my door, and had the equipment with you." I was almost floored. To think that this international celebrity who had probably done hundreds of interviews since that one, would remember! So she autographed my book "For Bob, who has the equipment!".


I have a framed photocopy of the page that I have proudly displayed in the five apartments I have occupied since that day.

Lynn also explained that she has to be careful how she autographs books. One time, a woman asked for an autograph for her husband for their anniversary. "Are you saving it for your anniversary, or is he getting it tonight?" Lynn asked. The lady said he'd be getting it that night, so Lynn signed the book "To George, who's getting it tonight." The woman was insulted, and insisted on getting another book.

Anyway, that's my Lynn Johnston story. I continue to read her comic strip every day.

By the way, right after getting the autograph, I called my parents, who knew I was a big Lynn Johnston fan. I told my Mom that I had bought the newest book. "Take it back!" she said. It turns out that she had just bought it for me for Christmas. Obviously, I couldn't take it back, so she did.

My Mom also enjoyed "For Better or For Worse", and had a hummingbird feeder at the cottage. One time, Lynn's weekend strip featured Michael Patterson helping a hummingbird that had accidentally gotten into the kitchen. He cradled it in a towel, got it back outside, then wrote in his journal something along the lines of "They say that once in your life, you get to hold a miracle in your hands. I just did." My Mom got the strip laminated and put it on the cottage fridge with magnets. It's still there, five years after Mom died.

This is for Ma

KAPUSKASING, Ont. - Police say they believe that two children younger than 12 years old started a fire that torched a community landmark in Kapuskasing.
The Kapuskasing Inn went up in flames May 22, damaging much of the building's structure.
But police say charges won't be laid because of the ages of the children, who were inside the building when the fire began.
One of the kids is accused of sparking the blaze, but police have provided no details on how it started.
Under the law, the children are too young to be held responsible for a crime.
OPP Det. Sgt. Todd Selvage says the incident wasn't an explicit act of arson, but rather `vandalism that just went too far.'

Barbecue recipes, please

Okay, the barbecue is set up, the cast iron grills are seasoned and cooling. In the next half hour or so, I will cook the first steak on my new 'cue.

So let's be a bunch of old ladies and trade recipes. I'm particularly looking for marinades for steaks and chops. Remember, I'm diabetic, so the less sugar, the better.

I'm also going to look online for the beer butt chicken recipe, or ask Cathy for it.

Please, don't be like my great-grandmother who would trade recipes, but intentionally leave out an ingredient or instruction or two, so that the other old lady wouldn't make it better than she could.

UPDATE: I just ate my first steak cooked on the new barbecue. Melted in my mouth. Tomorrow, I'm going to try a chicken breast!

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Happy Father's Day to all Dads, especially THE Dad in our little cyber family, JB. I hope the recuperation is going well.

I called my Dad last night, knowing that I would be working today, and going out for din-dins tonight.

I love and cherish my Dad, and hate what the ravages of time are doing to him and his once-sharp mind.

I haven't seen my Dad (who I usually call "Paw", as the grandchildren all do, including Little Bro Dan) since last July, and look forward to spending some time with him and StepMama next month.



This is Dad/Paw, taken last year at the cottage. I've never gone this long without seeing him in person, so I'm really anxious to go to the cottage next month.

Say it ain't so, Ma

The Mattagami Motor Hotel, the only strip joint left in Timmins (if it's even still open), is being torn down this summer, and Future Shop plans to build a store on the lot.

Check it out here: http://www.channel3news.ca/main2.htm

I think we've talked about the "Mattag" here in Blogland before. For non-Northern Ontarians, it's pronounced mah-TAW-gah-mee, just like ken-AW-gah-mee and teh-MAW-gah-mee (Kenogami and Temagami). And Ma is originally from Kapuskasing (kap-uss-KAY'-sing, not kah-PUSS-kah-sing).

Anyway, Timmins without the Mattagami is, well, better I guess in some ways; just not as sleazy.

Sigh.

Mushroom Cloud Alert

I'm getting a natural gas barbecue! There's a connection for it on my balcony, and this is the first building I've ever lived in that actually encourages barbecues. So I can pick it up on Thursday, and hope to have it fired up by Saturday night -- Monday at the latest, because of my stupid work schedule.

So I've also been shopping for barbecue tools, etc., and have noticed some unusual things. My friend Cathy makes Beer Butt Chicken (totally yummy; drink half a can of beer, shove the can up the chicken's butt; the rest of the beer bastes the bird from the inside) and now commercialism is even catching up to that with a stand for Beer Butt Chicken. Sucker bait -- it stands on the beer can, Stupid.

Sidebar story: I bought some barbecue tools at WalMart today, and was in line at the 8-items-or-less express checkout behind a stupid bee-atch who obviously can't count. Problem is, the cashier doesn't enforce the 8-items-or-less rule. Anyway, when Bee-atch unloads her cart onto the counter, I get between her and the cart. Then when she has checked out her 43 items, she turns to get the cart, and there it is -- gone! I got a certain amount of satisfaction out of that. Serves the ignorant bee-atch right.

I think the cashiers should have to enforce the express rules. At WalMart, your receipt has the number of items you've bought on it. Management should keep track of such things, and lay some heavy crap on the cashiers for anything over eight items at the express checkout.

Dammit, one day the world will work according to MY standards! Unfortunately, I can't bite off my nose to spite my face. I'm already boycotting Zellers, so I can't do the same to WalMart.

There. My Cranky Old Fart rant is over, and I feel much better.

Thinking of JB

Hey, fellow Bloglodytes. Our blog buddy is scheduled for surgery tomorrow to replace a hip. I'm not sure if he'll see this before then, but if you do, JB, all the best. We'll be sending good vibes your way.

May you be back on your feet and bouncing Liam and Morgan on your lap really soon.

Oh, the wonder that's the CRTC

The CRTC decision on the sale of CHUM to CTVglobemedia came down this morning. I can only imagine the impersonation of headless chickens being done by management at both companies.

CTV wanted to buy CHUM Radio, the five Citytv stations and all of CHUM's specialty channels, and spin off A-Channel to Rogers Broadcasting. The CRTC, whose decisions can rarely be predicted and often defy logic, is saying "Okay, you can have radio and you can have A-Channel, but you can't have the City stations."

From what I can see so far, that sends us back to the position of wondering wtf will happen to us. Logic would dictate that CTV would keep us (A-Channel) and let Rogers have Citytv, assuming Rogers wants it. But who knows? Again, logic rarely works in these situations.

Of course, on a totally personal level, it has me wondering again about my own future. Rogers guaranteed our jobs until the take-over was completed (probably 18 months to two years) and beyond, because they were planning to implement more local programming. Time for another polish job on the old resumé, I guess.

Man, this business of broadcasting has been eternally jinxed by that old Chinese wish, "May you live in interesting times".

Yo, Milky: You might not be getting rid of me from the building after all. Hah!

Mommy, it's ooooooooooooover!

Full props to the Anaheim Ducks. They played better in the Stanley Cup finals, and deserve the Cup.

Sens: There's always next year, and you have a long way to go before you're as futile as the Leafs.

Thanks for proving that this city is not the conservative, stuffy town that fun forgot. It's been a great ride all season, especially the past month or so, and it's all because of you and the great hockey you've been playing.

There's no shame in being runner-up, but it sure sucks. Hold your heads high. The disappointment will wear off, and be replaced by the pride.

HBC rant update

You might recall the hassle and the trip through Customer Service Hell that I experienced last month, regarding delivery of my new washer and dryer.

After I cooled off a bit, I decided not to pursue the matter, and resolved not to make any more major purchases at Zellers.

Then, on May 22, I went lamp shopping for my new living room. I found the exact floor lamps I wanted for my living room at Home Outfitters, which is another HBC outlet. I wanted to put them on my HBC card, mostly to qualify for double HBC points. For some reason, my card was rejected.

The cashier -- a very pleasant, patient lady named Sophie -- called customer service to inquire. On her way to acquiring a living, breathing human to speak to, the automatic answering machine told her that the full payment on the washer and dryer had been made May 15. After several minutes with that living, breathing human, Sophie was asked to hand the phone to me. I was told that although the payment had been made a week earlier, it wouldn't be processed until the next day, so I was over the $1,000 limit on the card. I wondered how that could happen when the washer and dryer totalled more than $1,000, and was told that the salesperson who processed the transaction must have overridden the limit, but that couldn't be done now for $136 worth of lamps. Just because the payment for which they had record wouldn't be processed for another day!

After about 20 more minutes on the phone with Sophie -- get this -- the other woman HUNG UP! Sophie was determined to get it done for me, so called back. That started another 20 minutes or so with another person, who tried to walk Sophie through an override, but gave up when it wouldn't work, and told Sophie there was nothing else that could be done, and ended that conversation.

Un-freakin'-believable. I really wanted the lamps, otherwise would have walked about 30 minutes earlier, and eventually paid for them on my Visa, minus the bonus HBC points, of course. I thanked Sophie profusely, and left with my lamps.

Before I could cool off that time, I emailed Customer (Dis)Service, and recounted all the stupidity I had been through. The next day, I got a reply that began with an apology, and asked me to call "Tina" at a toll-free number, to discuss the matter further. I left a message for Tina, and am still waiting for a call. Today is June 6, that was May 24.

I know that my personal boycott of HBC will have no effect. I won't even ask you to join my boycott. However, I do implore you to remember what I've been through when you contemplate a major purchase at any HBC store. That includes the Bay, Zellers and Home Outfitters. God forbid you have any problem, because Customer Service is a complete misnomer to that company.

I could understand if I was a deadbeat with a bad credit rating, but nothing is further from the truth. Remember: I had paid in full for the washer/dryer purchase. The company even had record of that, but it hadn't been processed, whatever the hell that means. I'm the guy who gets antsy if his Visa card is showing a balance. With the exception of a couple of summers when I was on vacation for a month, so cable, phone and Visa payments might have been a few days late, I have never fallen behind in any payments.

Customer Service indeed!

Camp Day tomorrow (Wed., June 6)

If there's only one day this year that you have a Tim Hortons coffee, please make it tomorrow. It's annual Camp Day, and all the proceeds from coffee sales go to the Tim Hortons Children's Foundation, and its camping programs for under-privileged kids.

Not only did I participate as a celebrity server for one or two Camp Days for Ma, back when I was a local celebrity in Timmins, but Little Bro Dan benefited from one of the camps.

Porcupine Big Brothers and Big Sisters nominated two Little Brothers and two Little Sisters every year, for a trip to camp -- and as far I know, still do. I can't swear to it, because it's almost seven years since I lived in Timmins.

However, in 1994, the second year that Dano and I were matched, he went to camp in Kananaskis Country, in the Alberta foothills. He went on an overnight horseback riding and camping trip and did several other neat things. That was half his lifetime ago, and he still talks about it once in a while, so it must have been a positive experience.

So please, have a coffee tomorrow, and anytime you're in Tim's, drop at least some of your change in the coin box. And think of my Little Brother, how special he is to me, and how his Tim Hortons camping experience contributed to the fine young man he has become.

I've blogged about Dano before. Anyone who has seen any of those posts will know that he's now a paramedic in Timmins. The photo here was taken in 1999, when he was 16 or 17 and I was, well... younger than I am now. I'll sign off here, before I get carried away, as I tend to do when talking/blogging about Dano.

Don't forget: Camp Day tomorrow! Have a coffee!

Man all battle stations!

OHMIGAWD! Our little blog clique/club has been infiltrated by another South Porcupinian! (See the comment from Mark on my most recent post.)

Confession time here: I love this blog and its blog buddies (i.e. Nat's, Ma's, JB's, Maria's, Milky's, formerly CQ's, etc.) but I've kind of kept it to myself. I haven't told anyone about it.

When the "small world" thing has hit, such as when JB told me he used to work and play hockey with Kurt, a current co-worker of mine, I just told Kurt that JB and I hang out on a couple of the same blogs. It's been kinda my guilty pleasure, although there's nothing here to be guilty about. Most of my closest friends know me well enough that nothing on here would surprise them anyway, but I just haven't felt like getting them involved in it, as if I'm trying to keep my real world friends and my blog friends separate (although some fit in both categories). Anyway, Mark, you're welcome in either category any old time, too.

To the rest of the group: Mark and his wife Cathy are good friends of mine, and Joanne -- who we lost a couple of weeks ago, as you will recall -- is partly responsible for that. Mark and I got to know each other when Jo was working at the United Way, and got us together to produce promotional videos (Mark owns his own production company). Countless good times have ensued. I was even MC at Mark and Cath's wedding almost 11 years ago. In fact, I missed Shania Twain Day in Timmins to go to the wedding in Collingwood! If that's not friendship...

There, it's out there! I feel much better. :)

And now, to show off a puppy picture of my own. This is Maggie, the nine-month-old Yorkie who's the "baby" of Little Bro Dan and The Pretty Christine, when they visited Maggie's Uncle Bob last week. She has since had her bangs cut, so her beautiful eyes are more visible.

It's "CA-NA-DA", dammit!

For at least the second time this NHL playoff season, in a U.S. rink, the anthem singer has called our country can-IH-dah. The first time I heard it was, I think, during the Ottawa/New Jersey series. It just happened again in Anaheim.
Come on, you people. You might know two-thirds of sweet f***-all about the huge country just to the north of you, but how hard is it to pronounce "Canada"?

As for The Star Spangled Banner, Stephen Stills remembered all the words, but his singing made it The Star Mangled Banner. I'd love to hear Randy, Paula and Simon's reviews.

Randy: "Dawg, it was aight, but awfully pitchy and off-tune in spots."

Paula: "(Something incoherent about you're as beautiful as a butterfly and we all love you)."

Simon: "That was absolutely atrocious. Horrific. It was lahst place at a high school musical karaoke competition. You wouldn't lahst at the Holiday Inn."

GO SENS GO!

Here it is!

Cheesy, huh?

I think by the looks of it, I'm going to be in the 10% of people for whom a henna tattoo doesn't take very well or last very long. But hey, for five bucks, what the hell...

I got a tattoo!

Okay, so it's a temporary henna tattoo that will last 7-10 days, but for a straight-laced, conservative guy like me, it's a major step.
Across my bulging left bicep, it says "GO SENS GO!".
Yes, I'm caught up in this city's Stanley Cup Fever. Just minutes before getting the tattoo, I bought a Go Sens Go t-shirt.
I was at the rally at City Hall at noon hour Thursday, with about 15,000 other people. Our TV station went live for an hour, and I was doing crowd control and bodyguarding for our camera dude and on-air dude doing interviews in the crowd. I had a blast!
I'll try to post a photo of my tattoo in the next couple of days.

WTF? Montrealers should be outraged!

So starting this year, The Centre of the Universe (a.k.a Toronto) will have a Just for Laughs festival.
What up with that? Why, oh why, would JFL organizers in Montreal even have the first -- never mind second thought of branching out to Trawna?
I attended Just for Laughs three or four years ago, just for one day, but it was a blast. Montreal should seriously keep it for itself, and let Toronto come up with an original idea of its own for once.
My only hope is that the entire announcement about JFL Toronto is just a joke -- a Just for Laughs Gag, if you will.
I mean, for the love of Pete, Toronto hasn't even won the Stanley Cup in 40 years. In fact, the Leafs have never won the Cup in colour.

Come on, Montrealers, let's hear some outrage.

Look what I bought!

Whaddya think? They're not even knock-offs. They're real Crocs with the real NHL logo hologram thingy on the tag, which I guess I should take off before I wear them. I'm hoping they're comfy and not too hot, being rubber and all. That could lead to a real cheesy smell emanating from my footal area.

GO SENS GO!

Tah-dah! Bob's New Crib

Alrighty, then. I have finally gotten the new apartment to the point that I can share photographs. What I haven't taken pics of: the balcony (165 sq. ft.), the bathroom that isn't the en suite off the master bedroom, or the utility room which houses the washer and dryer. Here goes:









Any questions? Avez-vous des questions?

How 'bout them Sens?

First time in franchise history in the STANLEY CUP FINAL!
This city was nuts yesterday afternoon and last night -- and the game was in freakin' Buffalo!
Just wait 'til the Senators win the Cup!

Cops with a sense of humour -- go figure!

Go to the Cornwall, ON police website: http://www.cornwallpolice.com and click on "Contact Us" and "Contacts". You will hear Chief Clancy Wiggum from Springfield Police say "No, you got the wrong number. This is, um, 9-1... two."

I am doing LAUNDRY!!

It has been a long and winding, sometimes bumpy road, but I have arrived!
In the next hour or so, I will have clean socks and underwear -- something that the people closest to me might appreciate even more than I do.

Special thanks to Uncle Den (bro-in-law) for helping me figure out that I'm not a total girl, it's just that the dryer kit I bought was the shitz, and for getting the right one. Kudos also to Marc, the workguy on this construction project, for proving that Den and I aren't girls, either, when it comes to getting the stupid plug off the drainpipe. It took him about ten minutes and a broken X-Acto knife blade. Why the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is there a plug on it in the first place? Just so it has to be broken off to use??? Sheesh.

Yes, Laundry Mountain is shrinking, and will cease to exist in the next couple of days. Hallelujah.

Ahhhh... life is good.

Have a great long weekend. I'm working tomorrow and Sunday, but have Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday off.

Good Lord, it's quiet in Blogland

Where the heck is everybody? Didja all get grounded and lose your computer privileges?

Joanne Krakana Frost 1954-2007 R.I.P.

I just learned today of the death of a friend.
I first met Joanne Krakana shortly after moving to Timmins in 1987. She was receptionist and campaign assistant at the Porcupine United Way. We struck up a friendship by working together on promotions, particularly video presentations. That is also how I got to know my good friend Mark Rogers, and his wife, Cathy.
Jo, Mark and I were sometimes referred to as The Three Mouseketeers. We sometimes got into mischief together (Joanne's favorite story being how we got Vaseline smeared all over her mother's hardwood dining room floor).
Jo had married quite young, had two kids, and suffered through an abusive relationship that she eventually escaped. She made the best of it, getting an education and a decent job. She eventually moved up to the position of executive director at the United Way, until she was felled by serious health problems. I attended her retirement party in April, 2002.
In between times, Jo met Mike Frost. To say he worshipped her would be an understatement. Jo took Mark and me out to supper one night, to see if we could talk her out of marrying Mike. I think she expected us not to put up a good argument, but didn't suspect that we would tell her she would be crazy not to marry Mike, who, as I said above, worshipped her and treated her like a real lady.
A couple of years ago, Mike and Jo left Timmins, as his career took him to Western Canada. Mike works on remote mining and exploration sites, and while he was onsite over the weekend, Joanne died. She was found yesterday, after not having shown up for work. She would have turned 53 this coming Saturday.
Jo: Thanks for the good times, and the caring friendship you provided (such as the thoughtful care package you sent to me, shortly after I moved to Toronto -- and that's just one small example). I will continue to admire your tenacity, for not letting an abusive first marriage get the best of you, and for turning it around to make the best of it; and the courage to try marriage again, when someone who truly loved you entered your life. And Mike, thanks for giving Jo what I know were the happiest years of her life. The pity is that there won't be any more of them -- you deserved a long, happy life together.

One more note: Mike and I have another connection. He was Little Bro Dan's second Big Brother, I am the third. The match ended when Mike's work commitments made it too difficult to continue it.

Finally, if there's a Heaven, Jo is there. Rest well. Even though Earth would be a better place if it were to have you longer, you deserve it.

My next rant target: Canada freakin' Post

I haven't had mail since I moved in to my new crib two weeks ago. I asked the contractor/building manager today, and he told me that Canada Post refuses to deliver here until the middle of July.
First, it's because no mailboxes are installed in this building. That much I can understand. But the arrogant S.O.B. from Canada Post also told Joe that delivery doesn't take effect until three months after notice that a new building is ready, and that notice was only filed a month ago.
What a crock! Are Canadians not entitled to mail delivery?
I went to the nearest postal outlet, at Shoppers Drug Mart in Blackburn Hamlet (the part of Ottawa in which I live) and was told I have to inquire at the post office in Orleans. That I will do tomorrow. Hopefully my mail is waiting there (including my new driver's licence and insurance papers for home and car). Either way, I am going to contact my MP. This is crap.
I also intend to push to have my six-month change of address service extended, to begin the day that mail is finally delivered to this building. I paid about 40 bucks to have my mail re-directed from the old place, and it ain't happenin'.

Grrrrrrrr.

Oh, the mysteries of life

Why are tornadoes attracted to trailer parks, and bird poop to cars?

My Zellers/HBC rant

I am almost fully unpacked, and my brand-new apartment in the brand-new building is awesome. Even the natural gas fireplace is operational as of Tuesday morning, which was the hottest day so far this year at that point.

Now, the rant:
I bought a stackable washer and dryer from Zellers, at an amazing price. It was delivered to my place last Tuesday as planned, but had two broken legs, so I refused delivery. I have spent the last week in Customer Service Hell -- hell, I tells ya.

I called the toll-free Customer Service (BIG misnomer)number, and got HBC Customer Disservice in Montreal. After at least five calls, I was finally told last Friday that the model I bought was no longer available (I knew it was a discontinued model, thus the great price), and there were no more at any HBC outlet anywhere in Canada. So I would have to go back to the store, pick another model, and pay the difference.

So Saturday after work, I did go to Zellers, and lo and behold, there were two of the damned things on the sales floor! I eventually spoke to the appliance department manager who said he had one, if not two still in cartons in the stock room. I told him if he could have one delivered to my place, it would be case closed. Unfortunately, he followed protocol and called Customer Service (I cringe when I use that term), who called me on Monday and said they could deliver it Wednesday afternoon. However, they couldn't give me a precise time, and I had to be at work for 2:30, so they're delivering it tomorrow between 8am and 1pm. I got a call today to confirm that again, and make sure they had the address right. I almost said "You already have it, remember?"

Sheesh. What a hassle. What an unnecessary hassle and example of gross ignorance, incompetence and disregard to the customer. What happened to the customer being number one?

I don't expect special treatment, just good, basic service. Zellers/HBC failed me big time. Now if they don't deliver tomorrow...

...Aaaaaaand, we're back!

Finally! Rogers got its act together, and I have full service again. Now, if I can only give Zellers a kick in the ass to get my washer and dryer here. Did I tell you that when they delivered them on Tuesday, two legs were broken, so I refused delivery and have been stuck in Customer Service Hell ever since?

Anyhoo, more Punta Cana pics, and the closest you'll get to seeing me in a Speedo. I call this one "Why I should get my arse back to the gym and start working out more regularly":

This was taken at Macao Beach, about halfway through our half-day ATV excursion. Beautiful place, but the beach needs a good clean-up. And, of course, every stop just happens to be at some place where stuff is for sale. "My friend, come see my table..."

And now, as promised, Santa Claus:


More later. Have a great weekend.

At long last, a wedding pic

...And no, although it might look like I'm the groom, I'm not. But isn't my little sweetheart, Tessa, the most beautiful bride you've ever seen?
I'll post more, once Rogers gets its shite together, and gets my phone and internet working. And unless Maria apologizes, that will NOT include Speedo pics.

Also coming up in a later blog/rant, I'll rail against so-called customer service, related to my move into the new crib, and taking direct aim at Rogers and HBC.

Later, Gators.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Just got home shortly after 1am. I was up at 6am for the useless three hours before the flight thing. The bus was supposed to leave the resort at 7:25. At 7:30 the Air Transat/Nolitours rep showed up to tell us the flight was delayed by two hours, and the bus would be leaving at 10:00. By the time we got to Toronto, got the Park Plaza to send enough shuttles for all 55 of us (as was supposedly pre-arranged last week), it was 8:30 by the time I was on the 401. I had a passenger to keep me company, and keep me awake. The boyfriend of the groom's cousin goes to school in Ottawa, and missed his connecting flight from Toronto by ten minutes.

I and several others say that when we book a vacation from now on, we will avoid Transat whenever possible. The flight to the Dominican was also delayed last weekend. Either Transat doesn't have enough equipment to handle its passenger load, or the equipment isn't reliable enough. (Maria or anyone else is welcome to comment on this. You have the topic -- discuss!)

Anyway, it was a great, memorable week.

Beddy-bye time now. My sister is coming over at noonish (just over 10 hours from now) to help me finish packing for Monday's big move.

I'll be in touch after that, the good Lord and Rogers cable/internet willing.

Hola from Punta Cana!

This place is beautiful, even in the rain.
It rained when we got here Saturday, rained yesterday (a 3-hour torrential downpour starting at about 5pm), and it's been cloudy with off-and-on drizzle again today.
I haven't wandered out of the resort yet, but have a couple tours coming up later in the week. The wedding is Thursday.
I had a great phone call with JB on Friday, as I was driving on the 401 and he was on the air, from about 5:20-6:00pm.
If I have some more down time, I'll check in later in the week, but internet time is limited to 20 minutes a day, unless you want to pay big pesos for it.

Later, Blog Gators.

I have the keys!

Yes, ladies and germs, I have the keys to my new, deeluxe apartment.
Of course, there's a story behind it: Yesterday, I stopped in the rental office of the building I'm now in, to make sure the elevator was available for May 1st. "No," I was told, "you have to move out on April 30th by midnight."
Crap! Everything was already set for May 1st: mover, couch and washer/dryer delivery, the whole shebang.
So a quick phone call to the new building manager got me the okay to move in a day earlier. The mover said no, it was impossible, so I said I wouldn't cancel them yet, but could they suggest someone else? It's amazing what happens when you threaten to go to the competition. All of a sudden, they could make arrangements, and would 8:30am be okay?
So, seeing as I'll be away all next week, new building gave me keys today, and a quick look-see at the apartment. BEE YOO TEE FULL! All that's left to do is move in the fridge and dishwasher, and touch up the paint in a few places.
All I have to do now is get Sunday, April 29 off. I'm supposed to work, but now with the move moved up a day, I kinda need the day to finish packing. I'm wishing I hadn't dragged my ass the past couple weeks.
Speaking of which, I gotta go now, and get in another hour of packing before going to work.
Later, Blog Gators.

American Idol Justice is Done!

"Nah nah nah-nah, nah nah nah-nah, San-jay-ah, gooodbye".
Sanity and credibility have been restored, and the world is turning as it should.
However, I think American Idol is trying to be too much more than a singing contest with American Idol Gives Back. Come on, people, there are enough great organizations doing tremendous work to save the world. Just stay true to your roots, and do what you do best: Finding Your... American... Idol!

Newsguy Bob out! (Not to be misconstrued with outing myself.)

By Popular (?) Demand (?)

"Father," asked the young Native boy, "how do Native children get their names?"
"Well," his father replied, "the child is named after the first thing that the father sees, hears or feels immediately falling the child's birth. For instance, Wind in the Leaves, or Thunder in The Sky. Why do you ask, Two Dogs F***ing?"

Little Bro Dan and I are both Métis. He is fifth generation, I am fourth. You can go back five generations to qualify for a membership card in the Métis Nation. Métis is non-status, so it is not a status card. Dan has his membership card.

One time when Dano was 16 or 17, my dad was teasing us good-naturedly about being Métis, and asked if such things were taken into account when Big Brothers were matching Bigs and Littles. I said I wasn't sure, but that it might be. "Right, Two Dogs?" "Yep," Dan replied, sending my dad into near convulsions of laughter that started with a snort and almost made the poor guy pee his pants.


My name is Bob, and I come from a very weird family.

How I made mashed potatoes go through my brother's nose

How's that for an attention-getting title?

It's a true story, and it didn't happen when we were kids -- we were in our 30s.

Dementia itself is nothing to laugh at, but you have to find humour in everyday things, even if they're a result of dementia. Our Grandpa McIntyre had been a strong, athletic, very self-confident man. But in his later years, he was robbed of all that and his dignity, too, by dementia. He spent the last six of his 89 years living in a chronic care unit because of it.

One Christmas, while Grandpa was living in chronic care, my parents were spending the holidays at my sister's house in Ottawa. So a couple of days before Christmas, Danny and I went and got Grandpa, and brought him to Danny's house for supper.

Grandpa didn't seem to know who these nice young guys picking him up were, but he must have figured it would nice to get away from the hospital for a while. When we got to Danny's, Grandpa was extremely pleased to see Candy, my sister-in-law, calling her by name, and giving her a big hug and a kiss. That struck us all as a bit odd, because it's short-term memory that goes, and he had only known Candy for maybe 15 years, and Danny and me for our whole lives.

During supper, he started talking about my parents. He remarked how my mom -- his daughter-in-law, Cec -- was "a fine, fine woman". He then turned to me sitting next to him, and asked if I knew her very well. My reply, without a split-second of hesitation: "Oh yeah, she's like a mother to me."

That's when the mashed potatoes came through Danny's nose. He and Candy both left the dining room very quickly, into the kitchen, in absolute hysterics.

And that, boys and girls, is how I made mashed potatoes go through my brother's nose.

Ask me sometime how Native boys get their names, how it relates to Little Bro Dan and me, and how we used it to make my Dad snort and almost pee himself.

My name is Bob, and I come from a very weird family.

I have a new dognephew

Get this for nerve: My 19-year-old niece, who is just finishing second year nursing at University of Ottawa and still lives at home, goes out and spends $375 for a dog, without even consulting with her parents. PLUS she has a summer job that will take her to Michigan for three months this summer.

When my sister told me about it on the phone Saturday night, there was no way Jack was staying. Michelle had to find someone to take or buy him. Even yesterday afternoon when I phoned because a co-worker showed some interest in adopting Jack for his two little girls, Jack had to go. But by suppertime, an agreement had been reached so that Jack could stay, and grow up with Zoey.

He is kinda cute. He's half Chihuahua (yeah, N@) and half Great Dane. Just kidding! He's half Chihuahua and half Pomeranian. He's nine weeks old, weighs just a couple pounds, and looks like a miniature fox. The lady with no teeth in Plantagenet who sold him to Michelle says he could grow to ten pounds, but I doubt it.

Zoey, the giant Golden Doodle who thinks she's a lap dog isn't very impressed yet, but is already showing signs of acceptance. When another dog takes one of her toys, she growls and takes it away. With Jack, she just waits until he puts it down, and then takes it back. She's also being insecure and clingy, so everyone's making a point of praising her and letting her have a dog biscuit whenever she darned well wants one.

The size difference is amazing. Zoey weighs about 60 pounds, and her head is bigger than Jack. She could crap bigger than Jack!

On another note: Four more sleeps until I head to Toronto, and then the Dominican after one more sleep -- but who's counting? And I have so much to do, I should haul my ass away from the computer.

Later, blog gators.

Ya gots ta love Wikipedia

Yesterday, Wikipedia's entry about Sidney Crosby said he lives in California with his wife, Jessica Simpson and their three children. Today it says "Sidney likes long walks on the beach, and candle-lit dinners with his boyfriend, Mats Sundin."

That's gold, people, pure gold.

My own Sidney Crosby joke: Have you seen his playoff beard? Neither has he.

GO, SENS, GO!

Water vs. wine

In a number of carefully controlled trials, scientists have demonstrated
that if we drink 1 liter of water each day, at the end of the year we would
have absorbed more than 1 kilo of Escherichia coli, (E. coli) bacteria
found in feces. In other words, we are consuming 1 kilo of Poop.
However, we do NOT run that risk when drinking wine (or rum, whiskey or
other liquor) because alcohol has to go through a purification process of
boiling, filtering and/or fermenting.
Remember: Water = Poop, Wine = Health
Therefore, it's better to drink wine and talk stupid, than to drink water
and be full of shit.

Another public service from your buddy Bob

Whaddya have to do to give furniture away?

So, the Diabetes Association wanted my couch and chair, but its drivers can't come up to my apartment to get it. So I call the Salvation Army, who can come up to get it.
I was told the truck would be here between 8:30 and 3:00 last Tuesday. So I waited all day, not even showering in case I missed them, and they didn't show up. So I rescheduled for yesterday, but when they got here, the elevators were out of order, and they wouldn't walk up to the third floor. The driver told me they had been here last week, but no one was home. I told him that was BS, because I waited all day. So he promised they'd be back first thing this morning. Besides, the woman who rescheduled the appointment checked their list or manifest or whatever the heck you call it, and said "Oh, yeah. They didn't make it to your place." It's now 10:05, and no show yet.

Sheesh.

One more frustration: I signed up for Rogers Home Phone the day I called to have my cable TV and internet service moved to the new place. The nice, obviously gay young guy asked me to call back the day after the phone service was installed, to take care of the transfer. No problem. Well, okay, problem: When I did call back, the guy I talked to said the new building isn't in their system yet, could I wait two days while that situation is rectified? No problem. Well, okay, problem: I actually gave it more than a week, calling yesterday. Guess what? Not in the system yet. I made no bones about expressing my displeasure, cranky old fart that I am (although I feel sorry for the eight bucks-an-hour call centre people who take crap for someone else's screw-up or inaction). This guy said he would flag the request, and someone from Rogers will call me within 48 hours to confirm that everything has been taken care of. Wanna place bets on it?

There. I feel better just for venting. Anyone want to share similar stories?

A travel tip that not even Maria can give you

If you are planning to go to London England from New York, may I suggest *NOT* following Google Maps directions. Here's why:
1. go to www.google.com
2. click on "maps"
3. click on "get directions"
4. type "New York" in the first box (the "from" box)
5. type "London" in the second box (the "to" box)
6. scroll down to step #23
A public service from your buddy Bob

Happy Easter Boxing Day

Beatcha to it, N@!

Nursing an Easter egg hangover,
NGB

I SHOWED HIM!

So a homeless panhandler thinks just because he says Happy Easter, I will give him money. NOT!
I punched him in the eye. Now it looks like a black, blue and purple Easter egg. I showed him! Get your money the way I get mine: I have a job and work for it! At least do something for the money, like the guitar guy next to Beaver Tails, or Fat Guy on Fire, or the white-faced human statue, or the smart-assed young guy with the sign that often changes, but sometimes says that he needs money for beer. At least he's honest. Sheesh.

Thank you for tolerating my Crabby Old F**ker rant, fellow bloglodytes.

HAPPY EASTER

I hope you have a great one.
Special wishes to Maria, JB and their great families. Easter, like Christmas, is to a large extent for kids.

Canadians are SO polite...

...even litterers have manners. There was garbage outside the front door at work today, in a garbage bag that was properly closed! (Cue rimshot...)

Happy Easter, and don't forget the working people, like me.

American Idol has jumped the shark

It's now a total joke, thanks to the idiots who hijacked it with the online campaign to keep Sanjaya in the mix -- although he wasn't all that bad last night. Maybe he should be crooner.

Regardless, AI's credibility is now zero in my mind. I gave up on Canadian Idol a few seasons back, because of Jon Dore and Ben Mulroney. Not even the removal of Dore was enough to make me want to try to stomach that lightweight Mulroney.

I'm a big boy now!

It's about time, too, considering I'm ten months away from turning 50.
As of today, I own my very own washer and dryer, and my own couch. The big move to the brand new apartment is four weeks from tomorrow, and getting more real all the time.

Again today, though, something to temper the enthusiasm: I found out that a young guy, same age as Little Bro Dan, and played hockey with him for a few years, has been busted for robbing a cab driver in Timmins, and trying to rob the local movie theatre. He's facing a long list of charges, including robbery and weapons possession, and it's not the first time he's been in trouble. I'm afraid he's going to the big house.

Dan and I have been chatting online about it, making wisecracks. But we're also talking about how sad and disappointing it is on one hand; and on the other hand, how it makes me that much prouder of Dano.

Sure, the alleged robber's parents are divorced and both remarried to different spouses, but they seemed to be doing a good job of raising him. His dad was our hockey coach one year (I was manager/trainer), and he was always strict with his son. His mom was a good hockey mom, too, following him to games and tournaments and on the surface at least, getting along well with Dad and Stepmom. But, as my mom always said, you can only do your best, and teach your kids values and morals, but they eventually all have minds of their own, and make their own choices -- all you can do is hope that the values and morals you taught and demonstrated leads them to the right choices.

Hug your kids tonight for me, will you?